For You
by Ramzes
Summary: What an irony it is - Fleur and George in the same hospital! Fleur is giving birth and George is fighting for his life. The second anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not the wonderful JK Rowling. Since I am not her, it's obvious that I don't own HP.**

For You

"This idiot – " Ron yelled, while he was desperately looking for his cloak.

"I know," Harry said.

"This fool – "

"I agree," Harry answered and looked around, hoping that Hermione would show up, although he knew that she was probably still in her parents' house, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

"Never thinks of anyone else but himself – " Ron went on venting, and Harry had to nod again and again, while they were hurrying outside to Apparate. He knew how unfair it was and he knew that Ron was aware of it, too, but he was just too worried and that rant made him feel better. _Feel better? Ha! As if somehow can feel better on this date. _

This damned date.

2nd May.

God, how Harry hated this day! He hadn't been able to sleep at all last night, knowing for sure that sleep would have brought them all back – Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, Colin Creevy… Fred. They would have come to him just like they had once been, smiling friendly, their eyes shining with eagerness, intelligence, and _life_. And then he would have woken up, dizzy with relief and happiness, only to see them fading away. Better no sleep at all than _that_.

He had seen Ginny only briefly in the morning. Although she had been trying to act normally, putting a brave mask on, her eyes had been red and puffy. And Ron, when Harry had seen him later in the flat that the two of them shared, had not looked better than her, but then, neither had Harry.

And yet, it he was not the one who had lost a brother exactly two years ago.

Neither was he the one who now had to face the possibility of losing a brother again.

Before they joined the rest of the Weasley family in St. Mungo's halls, Ron stopped for a moment and Harry tried to cheer him up. "He'll be fine, Ron. He is a survivor and you know that. He's young and strong. He'll make it."

"Yes." But Ron's voice held no conviction. Would George survive? Did he _want_ to survive? Why had he drunk all that alcohol, if he hadn't meant to - ? Neither Ron, nor Harry wanted to finish this thought.

Ron sighed and straightened up a bit. "Let's go," he said and the two of them went to find the rest of the Weasley family.

It was worse than they had imagined. Molly was desperately trying not to cry, but she was not very good at it. Arthur did his best to calm her down despite the worry that filled her own eyes. Ginny was weeping openly, holding little brown-haired Teddy in her lap. The kid obviously felt very confused, not realizing what was going on. _To think that I took him from one weeping woman only to hand him to the next one_, Harry thought. Andromeda Tonks, Teddy's grandmother, took perfectly good care of him, but for the last few days with the approaching anniversary of her husband and daughter's death, she had been feeling so depressed and feeble that she had been forced to give the child to his godfather until she was able to provide adequate care. This morning, Harry had given him to Ginny to take him to the Burrow and get him ready for the celebration and the memorial service at Hogwarts.

Of course, they had never made it to Hogwarts, thanks to the news that George had poisoned himself with all the alcohol that he had consumed.

_Did he do it on purpose_, Harry wondered. His friend had been looking so much better lately. They had all thought that he had finally started to recover from the awful blow that Fred's death had been for him. Had he just deceived them all? Could George – the daring, joking, mischievous, bold George Weasley – have tried to commit a suicide?

Of course, he was not the old daring, joking, mischievous, bold George Weasley anymore.

Percy looked very worried. Charlie's face bore an expression of mixed concern and fury that he would direct at George as soon as he opened his eyes – _oh Merlin, let him open his eyes, _Harry thought_. No one here can deal with another loss, not now, when we thought everything was over_. Bill's expression was very similar to Charlie's, although he seemed to feel a little guilty, too – about what, Harry could never imagine. Fleur, who at that point was heavily pregnant, was fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat. _She should be resting in bed_, Harry thought. St. Mungo is no place for a woman in her condition.

A few steps away, Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinet, and Katie Bell were whispering among themselves, their faces concerned. They probably felt guilty that they hadn't watched George closely for any symptoms of depression. Angelina Johnson, however, was not present. Since she and George had split up a few weeks earlier, it wasn't too surprising, but anyway, they had been friends for ten bloody years! Couldn't she show at least some concern about would he _live_ or _die_?

"What do Healers say?" Ron asked Bill.

His eldest brother shrugged. "Basically anything… They just keep repeating that we should wait and see."

Ron sighed. "At least he isn't worse," he said, for both his and Bill's sake.

"Yeah, and that is saying something – "

Harry went to Ginny and Teddy. At seeing him, his godson's face immediately lit up and he held his tiny hands out for him, his hair changing to excited blue. Harry reached for him and took him up, feeling the small body relax against him. He touched Ginny's cheek. "He'll be all right, Ginny," he soothed.

She tried to smile. "I know." Then, she noticed the change in Teddy's hair and sniffed. "I am sorry," she told the toddler. "I really am. I suppose I wasn't a good company, but I'll make it up to you, Teddy Bear. I promise."

But the nickname that George, in his rare moments of almost returning to his old self, had given the baby only made her cry harder and that, in turn, made Teddy's eyes water too. He started fidgeting in Harry's arms and his godfather quickly carried him away, before he could burst in tears, too. There had been too much tears in Teddy's life as it was: Andromeda, Ginny, Hermione, Molly, Harry and Ron – there was not a single one of those who took care of the kid who hadn't been broken by the war.

Teddy had spoken later than most children – he was well over his past birthday, when he had spoken, in the crowded kitchen of the Burrow, his first words, which were, as everyone would remember with guilt and shame, "Don't cry, Grandma Molly."

Now, Harry was looking at him, unable to chase away the ugly thought that kept dancing in his mind, "_We all keep saying that it was for you. It really was and it gave you freedom – you and the children like you who will grow without fear. But was it worth it? All we gave you is tears_." He looked at Fleur's big stomach and wondered whether all her unborn child would have would be freedom and tears. Was that all the war had been for? He knew, without doubt, that it had been worth it, but sometimes he wondered... just wondered…

With great relief, he noticed Hermione's arrival. She would make things better for Ron during the long waiting that Harry just knew lied ahead of them.

The day continued like this – without any news. George's condition seemed to have been stabilized, they were told, but no one knew whether he would make a recovery or not. And that did not give answer to the question that no one dared to say aloud: had he tried to take his own life away? Depressed both by the anniversary of Fred's death and his recent breakup with Angelina, could he have tried to commit a suicide?

Hermione tried to broach the subject as delicately as she could with Alicia and Katie, but all she received was a deadly glare from both ex-Chasers.

"Um, girls – " Lee tried to intervene.

"Don't 'um, girls' us, Lee!" Alicia snapped. "You know what Hermione is implying and you know that it isn't true."

"I do," he agreed.

"Then tell that to _her_!"

Lee turned to Hermione. "It's true, Hermione," he said. "I don't know what happened, but I am sure that George didn't do it on purpose. He was much better."

"Yes." But Hermione's voice was doubtful.

"He was," Lee insisted. "He and Angelina were happy, they were in love and they had everything to live for."

It was the first time when someone had voiced the suspicion that had been nagging all of them.

"Oh really?" Ginny asked, angrily wiping her tears off. "Where is she then? Why isn't she here?"

Her concern was turning into fury and the absent Angelina was a good target for it.

"She had to leave a few days ago," Katie explained. "Her grandmother in USA was not feeling good."

Ginny relented, but she was still unconvinced about George. "And you think it's a coincidence that he poisons himself with drinking just after the two of them split up?"

Lee shrugged. "George wasn't that concerned. About the breakup, I mean. He was angry with her, but he never took their separation for final."

"Then why did he do it?"

Her brother's best friend sighed. "I don't know, Ginny. I don't have any answers. The only thing I know is that George didn't try to end his life. To drink himself into stupor- yes, easily. But not the… the other thing. Something must have gone terribly wrong."

The calm conviction in his voice suddenly made everyone relax a bit. If everyone could say what George was thinking and feeling, it was Lee. He would have known if George had gone worse and if he was sure that it had been an accident – well, then it must have been an accident, right?

"I need coffee," Ginny announced, and Percy left to gather the black liquid that everyone needed. Desperately. Charlie grinned broadly, and Molly looked at Lee with gratitude. Then, a small intake of breath drew her attention to Fleur, who was smiling bravely, but not enough convincingly to delude her mother in-law.

"How often do they come?" Molly asked softly, sitting next to Fleur.

"Five minutes," Fleur answered, her voice holding fear, excitement, relief that someone had finally noticed that she was in labour, and horror. "I didn't want to give birth on this date, but – "

"Dear, it is not up to you," Molly said gently. For a moment, she felt glad to push her worry for George aside and instead concentrate on the frightened child in front of her. "Come on, five minutes is a pretty decent interval. You'll probably be ready in a few hours."

"Do you think so?" Fleur asked nervously.

Molly patted her hand. "I know so, dear. You are young, and strong, and you want this child. Everything will be okay."

Fleur clenched her teeth against the new wave of pain. "Even less than five minutes," Molly corrected herself. "You must tell Bill. Fortunately, we are in the best place of all for such a situation – "

Fleur nodded and Molly stood up. "Bill," she said, "there is something Fleur wants to tell you."

Her son quickly returned to his wife's side, his worry evident. "Are you feeling good?"

Fleur smiled faintly. "Better than ever," she said. "Bill, I don't think I'll give birth to the baby in two weeks' time."

"Why not?"

"Because I will give birth to it here. Very soon."

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**And that, my dear readers, was the first part of the day Victoire was born. Anyone interested in the second one?**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own HP._

**Thank you, my dear readers and reviewers, for your positive feedback for my first chapter. I hope the second one won't ****leave you disappointed.**

Chapter 2

_Fourteen hours later…_

It was raining and the clouded sky looked gray, just like Ron and Ginny's mood, when they softly closed the door behind them. Since there was no change in George's state, they were allowed to enter his room by one or two, if they didn't do anything to disturb him, and now it was Ron and Ginny's turn. They approached the bed, slowly, as if afraid of what they might see, but there was nothing scary in it: George was lying in the hospital bed, as if asleep. But he was so pale, so very pale…

"I don't think I've ever seen something as awful as this," Ron said, shuddering. "Not even when Bill was wounded by Greyback."

Ginny looked at him, surprised. He wasn't joking. "I mean it," her brother said, defensively and then continued in softer tone, "With Bill, there was blood and scars and everything. It was awful, but it was obvious what the problem was. But George here – it's just sinister, Gin. I've never seen something so dreadful."

"I have." Ginny's voice was barely audible and when he looked at her with confusion, she shrugged. "It was in my fifth year – your sixth. When you were lying in the infirmary and – " She did not finish.

Ron squeezed her hand and they both looked at George. "Are you doing it on purpose?" Ron asked him. "Is that one of your tricks? The Healers say that since you haven't gone worse, you'd probably get better, but you haven't yet. Do you think it's a great joke?"

Ginny laughed, with a slight note of hysteria in her voice. Ron stared at her in puzzlement. "What has gotten into you?" he asked.

"Sorry," she said. "It's just – what you said suddenly sounded _so_ funny, because it would be typical for George. Oh, so typical."

They both stood there and looked at him for a while. "You know what, George?" Ginny asked. "That's rich, even for you. It isn't funny. Not in the slightest. So open your eyes, tell me that it was all a big and awful joke and be done with it."

But he remained completely stationary, as she knew he would be.

A few minutes later, there was a slight knock at the door and Lee entered the room. His face fell, when Ron shook his head, showing that there was no change yet. "He hadn't moved at all," Ginny said.

She and Ron were on their way for the door and Lee – to take their place at George's side, when the sheets rustled and sent them all running for the bed.

"Merlin on a bike!" George gasped, when, after a few failed attempts, he finally opened his eyes. "What happened?"

"You are an idiot, that's what happened," Ginny said, unable to hide the relief in her voice. Anyway, she still managed to glare at him. "If you do it again, I'll kill you myself."

George winced. "Not so loud!" he hissed. "I've got only one ear left and you're going to deafen me."

She glared at him again, but thankfully, she kept her mouth shut. He looked at Ron and Lee. "What happened?" he asked again and grimaced. "My head is killing me."

"You got drunk," Ron said accusingly. "You drank so much that you got yourself poisoned."

George stared at him. "Really?" he asked and then looked at Lee. "He is serious, right?"

"Yes," Lee said. "I found you unconscious in your flat and I had you rushed here and ever since we've all been standing here, worrying about you."

"All of you?" Suddenly, George looked more cheerful. "Angelina, too? Was she worried?"

No one answered. He frowned. "Lee? She's here, right?"

"Err, no."

"No?" George made an attempt to rise, but the world started whirling around him, so slumped back against the pillow. "Why?"

"Her grandmother is ill. She left for the States a few days ago."

George slowly shook his head. "That's rich," he said. "It's simply rich. Why did I drink myself into stupor?"

Again, there was no answer, but soon enough, he worked it out by himself and his face fell. "What's the date today?" he asked.

"3rd May," Ron said hurriedly. "You missed the memorial service, as you obviously planned to. We missed it because of you, too. We've been waiting here to know whether you'd live or die, only it hasn't stopped raining for ten hours straight and the ground is all mud, so we wouldn't have even known where to dig your grave."

George laughed. The relief in Ron's brisk voice had been blatantly obvious. "It's nice to hear such concern. Did you choose an outfit to dress me in for the funeral?"

Ginny felt his forehead. "You don't have a fever," she announced.

"I've got a rotten taste in my mouth," he complained.

"Good," she answered without any sympathy.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. _I suppose I deserve it._

She headed for the door. "I'll call Mum and the others," she said, without looking back. Ron went after her, but when Lee made a movement to follow them, George grabbed his hand. "Stay," he whispered hoarsely, and Lee obeyed.

When they were alone, George had his first look at his best friend and felt a sting of remorse. Lee looked awful – tired, pale, his eyes sunken with the lack of sleep and surrounded by deep lines of exhaustion. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry, but offer his apology was not something that George Weasley did. He just squeezed Lee's hand tighter and was surprised to feel how strong the responding squeeze was. I _must have scared them worse than I thought._

Before he could say anything, Lee spoke quickly, "We don't have much time before the others arrive. Tell me one thing, George: you didn't try to – you didn't?"

George blinked, confused. "What?"

"You didn't – "

Still, Lee seemed averse to voice it – whatever _it_ was. It was like he was afraid of something – afraid to ask and even more – to hear the answer. And then, at once, George knew. "Oh! No! Not at all!"

He was shaken by the thought that Lee had assumed he would want to take his own life away. But it can't be Lee alone – they all must think that I tried to commit a suicide. "I didn't try anything like that," he said softly. "I just wanted to drink it off, so I would spend the memorial service and preferably the whole day unconscious. I must have overlapped myself. It's just – I couldn't go there and go through all this again. Last year was bad enough. That was all."

It was impossible to doubt his sincerity. Lee blew out a breath gustily and laughed deeply. "Merlin, how good is to hear that! I told your sister that it was an accident, of course, but deep down I couldn't help but wonder – " He laughed again with relief.

The door opened and all the Weasleys plus Alicia, Katie, Harry, and Hermione poured inside. George found himself being hugged, questioned and reprimanded all at the same time and his weak objections that he was still too weak and they would have time for it later were simply ignored. He let his mother cry with relief and grinned at the sight of Teddy, who immediately started clambering up to his bed. "Hi, Teddy Bear," he told him, and the small face contorted in anger.

"She scold me!" Teddy cried. "She say I am bad!"

Teddy had started talking later than most children, but when he had started, it was with whole sentences. No baby words for Teddy Lupin.

George looked at the others for a cue to what Teddy was up to. It didn't take him long before he realized who the toddler was staring with such indignation at – Ginny. "And why does Ginny say you are bad?" he asked.

Teddy's hair turned to determined blue. "Don't know. She is bad. Can I come to live with you?"

George didn't laugh, but it was a close call. At a second glance, however, he realized that the kid was genuinely miserable – his lips were trembling and his eyes were red and puffy. "What happened?" he asked the others.

"She say I am bad, because I poked the toy and it started cry!" Teddy's lips trembled harder. "But it wasn't on purpose!"

Helplessly, George looked at the others for explanation. "What is he talking about?"

Ron grinned. "He and Victoire didn't exactly hit it off."

This story was becoming more and more confusing. "Krum is here?"

Ron's face darkened. "He isn't! It isn't Viktor – it's _Victoire_."

"And who is Victoire?"

Molly looked at the door and smiled. "It's her."

George looked at the door and his eyes narrowed in surprise, while Bill was helping Fleur into the room. She was carrying a little bundle. George held his breath. It could not possibly be – "What is this?" he asked suspiciously.

"This," Fleur said, while she was slowly making her progress into the room, "is Victoire Weasley. She is exactly eleven hours and twenty minutes old and she is eager to meet her uncle."

George's face fell. _Eleven hours. Was she - ?_

"Yes," Bill said, as if he had read his brother's thoughts, "that's right. She was born on 2nd May."

"I see."

For a moment, George held his eyes tightly squeezed and then opened them and looked at Fleur. "Well," he said, "her uncle is eager to meet her too. Give her here."

They came nearer and George held his breath at the sight of the newborn that was now placed in his arms, under Molly's careful watch, at the perfection of the baby's translucent skin, at the blue light in her impossibly big eyes that – he could swear it – were examining him with the same interest like the one that he was looking at her with. Her rosy mouth opened and George winced, steadying himself for the high-pitched wail that he remembered from Ginny's baby days, but Victoire only smacked her lips and kept staring at him, as if she waited for him to reveal her all secrets of the universe.

"Stupid," Teddy said. "It stupid. Send it back."

"She isn't stupid," George told him. "She is beautiful. Don't you think she's beautiful?

Teddy looked again, but the thing was no more beautiful than the first time Aunt Ginny had lifted him up to look at it. It still had ugly pink face and almost no hair. "Ugly. It's ugly," he declared, much to amusement of the adults crammed into the room.

George laughed, looking at the indignant toddler. "She's gorgeous," he told the new parents. "And now I want you to go back to bed," he added, looking at Fleur. "Otherwise, I'll be worried about you. You gave me the greatest present ever."

Fleur smiled at his concern and came closer to take Victoire from him, but he looked at her with a silent plea. "Can I keep her for a while?" he asked. "Mum will bring her back to you in a few minutes."

Fleur looked at Bill, uncertainly, and he nodded without hesitation. "But if she starts to cry – " he started.

"I'll immediately send her to her mother," George interrupted. "You don't think _I_ can give her what she needs, do you?" And he looked pointedly at his flat chest.

Everyone laughed. That sounded like George from the period when there had been Fred and George.

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_Five days later…_

Angelina stopped dead at the door of the hospital room, looking at the man and the baby in front of her. She had never thought that George would ever look so naturally with a newborn sleeping upon him and yet he was, lying immobile, as if not to disturb Victoire's slumber. But when Angelina came closer, she saw that he was staring at the small head nestled against his chest so intently that he was not even blinking. Yet, he heard her steps and looked at her. His eyes were red and his cheeks wet. He did not even try to hide it.

Angelina sat beside him on the bed. "She's so pretty," she whispered. Her hand reached for the baby's cheek, but hesitated. George took it in his own and placed it upon Victoire's head.

"She is, isn't she?" he whispered back. "Merlin, if she had been born a few years earlier – " His voice cracked. "It's her, you know. It's always been her."

Angelina drew her hand back from the newborn's head and squeezed his fingers. Her other hand touched the side of his face and he reached and held it there, against the new drops falling from his eyes. They both knew what he thought: had Voldemort been alive, had he managed to maintain his control over Britain, this lovely little girl would have been considered lower than even the most untalented witch. Her beauty, her brains, her wizarding skills wouldn't have mattered. All people would have seen would be her mixed blood. She would have been rejected as a half-breed.

It was a strange coincidence that she had been born on the anniversary of the great battle, but at the same time, it was fitting in more than one way. The people who had died that day had died to make the world a better place for all children who would grow up without the dark shadow of the war. Fred had died for that. _For you, Victoire. For you_. George and Angelina had known Fred good enough to know that he would have gladly died again for his little niece, had he ever met her. And wherever he was, he was glad that she was born on that day, they were sure of it. Fred the optimist, Fred the fighter was glad to know that there was something wonderful that had happened on this day, George was sure of that. Fred wanted them to take it as a symbol, as a reminder that it had been worth it.

But Fred was still gone. And the pain was still the same, sharp, tearing George apart.

Angelina's fingers were almost crushed in his strong, desperate grasp, but she did not pull her hand away. Victoire was still sunken in her blissful sleep, completely unaware of the grief that was pouring around her.

Finally, George looked at Angelina and smiled. She smiled back. "You know, I've been waiting for you ever since I woke up," he whispered.

"Oh? Didn't you think, just for a moment, that I might not come?"

"No."

She grinned with relief and did her best to glare at him. The effect, however, was ruined by the fact that she still kept her voice low, fearing of waking Victoire up. "That's it! Sometimes, I wonder why do I keep bothering myself with the likes of you. Have you forgotten what the point in breaking up is?"

"Yes," George whispered back, cheerful and unrepentant. "Going back together. After our fourth separation I kind of got it."

Angelina shook her head in mock desperation. "You'll never change."

Victoire stirred and opened her eyes. "And now, George, what happens next?" Angelina asked.

George looked at his niece. "What happens next? Well, you'll have to take her to her mother, because she is due to be – "

A deafening wail made Angelina freeze.

" – hungry," George finished the line.

Angelina reached for the baby, wondering how on earth such a small thing could produce such a loud sound. And Victoire gave no indication of letting go. In less than a minute, her little face turned red with the effort and Angelina hurriedly carried her outside. Before closing the door, she turned to look at George. "George, you didn't do it on purpose, did you?"

"No," George said. Honestly, he was getting tired of explaining to everybody that no, he had not tried to kill himself.

"Good," she cried, to be heard over Victoire's yelling. "I was afraid that – "

George shook his head. "You know, you really shouldn't think that everybody will try to end his life because of you," he said. "You are a pretty girl, but not this much."

Angelina sent him a deadly glare and slammed the door shut. George stared after her. "What did I say?" he wondered aloud.

And he imagined hearing a voice that sounded exactly like his own, "You were you, Gred. You were you."

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**I hope the people who liked the first chapter are not disappointed with this one.**

9


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